No More Rules
by Cassandra Starr
Summary: While overhearing a conversation between her mother's friends, Anna thinks about the changes in expectations for her and her friends. Rated T just in case for a few mild references. Please review!


Anna sat on the stairs, one arm twisted through the banister, listening intently to the shrill voices flowing from the partially open door next to her.

"Play quietly while Mother's friends are here and you'll have some nice cake as soon as they leave," her mother had wheedled. Anna had been delighted to comply. She would have agreed even without the bribe of cake, for she loved listening in on the mysterious conversations.

"My Thea has been so quiet these past few weeks I don't know what to do. She says she feels well, but that doesn't explain this sudden silence!" Thea's mother cried.

Anna knew. Hanschen Rilow had scared Thea half to death by dropping his trousers at the bridge. Wendla had two little nephews and Anna had a baby boy cousin, so they were not surprised by the hanging piece of muscle and flesh. If Ilse had been surprised she didn't show it, which was just like her, too. But Thea had never seen such a thing, and been perfectly horrified when Wendla explained that all boys had them.

"Disgusting!" she had cried. "I can't imagine going around with... that! How do they bear it?"

Then Hanschen had started to give some examples of how he bore the terror of his genitals, but the girls had run away screaming. Anna shuddered at the memory. What a bad boy Hanschen was!

"I'm terribly worried about Moritz," confided Frau Stiefel. "He's so nervous! I went into his room to tell him to turn off the lamp and go to bed last night. I lay my hand on his shoulder, and he jumped up and screamed as though a knife had been put through him!"

The mothers clicked their tongues sympathetically.

"They work our boys too hard at that school," Frau Gabor sighed. "Melchior barely has any time to go out with his friends, he has so much homework!"

"Perhaps it is better that way," said Frau Zirshnitz. "With the boys so busy, they have no time to go running about with the girls. I try to always know where Georg is, but one moment he's at the piano and the next the music has stopped and the back door is swinging!" The mothers murmured an affirmation. Yes, their children were the same.

Anna sat up straighter. How unfair! If she cried when she fell down or when the other children teased her, Mama told her to be a big girl! But how could she or any of her friends act grown-up when they were treated like little children, constantly watched and never trusted with anything?

When she was little Mama had always told her, "You should play more with that nice Ernst Robel," or, "You haven't played with Melchior Gabor in such a long time, ask him over for some lemonade!" Now Mama was always telling her to go play with Thea and Wendla and Martha and Ilse and leave the boys be. "They don't want girls tagging along, dear. But perhaps Martha would like to see your pretty flowers in the garden?" Now that they'd all reached their teens their mothers were determined to keep them separate. What were the mothers so afraid of?

"Dear God in Heaven!" gasped Frau Zirshnitz. "It's Wendla Bergmann!"

Anna heard the mothers shifting in their chairs, presumably to se out the window.

"Well, I never!" Frau Robel cried. "Look at that girl! Hair flying everywhere, dress above her knees... Her stockings are practically transparent! It looks as though she isn't wearing any at all!"

"Not even the decency to walk," Anna's mother sighed.

"Wendla is a very sweet child, but that's no excuse for such attire!" insisted Frau Stiefel. "Someone ought to speak to her mother."

"It's for her own good," Anna's mother agreed. "A girl like that will end up in some hayloft, ruining her life! I'm so glad my Anna has more sense than that."

A hayloft? Good sense? Anna thought Wendla looked lovely. The short dress suited her better, and light stockings were prettier than dark. Running had made her cheeks a lovely pink and her hair was in wind-swept curls. What did good sense have to do with any of it? How could grown-ups expect them to follow their rules if they never explained the reasons?

Anna jumped up and ran to the window. "Wait for me, Wendla!" she called. Up the stairs she went, feet thumping loudly, not caring that she'd lose that piece of cake. Dress off and into the one she had worn last year. Yes, well above her knees. The black stockings became a crumpled pile on the floor and she was into her white ones. She yanked out her hair ribbon for the final effect.

"Here I am, Wendla!" cried Anna, bursting out the door. "I'm here!" Wendla stared at her for a moment and then began to laugh. "Let's go find the boys," Anna continued, "and play on the bridge the way we used to!"

"We aren't supposed to," Wendla began, but Anna cut her off.

"Why? Has your mama ever told you what's so awful about playing with the boys?"

"No," admitted Wendla.

"So let's not care! LET'S NOT CARE ABOUT ANY OF IT!"

And with that they were off running, hand in hand, giggling madly, past the shocked row of mothers at the window.


End file.
